Old Mr Shepperd
by Titania Le Fey
Summary: Snake makes a new friend along the road to South Dakota.
1. Old Mr Shepperd

Snake stoked the fire under his dinner. He'd managed to steal a chicken and the thought of fresh meat caused his stomach to grumble. It had been weeks, months maybe since he had real meat that didn't come from a ration can. Plissken sat back against the tree watching the meat cook over the fire. The temptation to eat now was so strong that only the fear of getting violently ill prevented him from eating it half cooked.

Sighing heavily he leaned his head against the tree staring up at the sky. It was cloudless and perfectly blue in the darkening light. It wouldn't rain, not tonight and that was good. Plissken was too lazy to find shelter where he could cook over a fire. Snake's eyes closed and he drifted into a light sleep lulled by the smell of food, real food.

It was dark when rustling shocked Snake to fully awake in a matter of seconds. It was pitch black and the sounds continued beyond the ring of firelight. Plissken stoked the fire higher and whatever was in the dark moved farther off. He turned his attention back to the golden chicken on the spit. Nothing would dare interrupt his meal. If it did it would regret it for the rest of its short existence.

Snake gingerly pulled the leg from the chicken. His mouth watered followed by a grumble that tore through his stomach. He brought it to his lips savoring the smell but again the racket started moving around to the left. Snake turned to focus his right eye on the sound. It moved off again.

Snake finally got to taste the rewards of his good work for the day. The chicken was like heaven. It was perfect. He tossed the bone out into the darkness and went for the other leg. Instantly a clamor erupted from the direction the bone had been tossed. Snake froze in mid grab watching silently. He could see the grass dancing. Something was out there.

The noise died down and Snake returned to his meal. All the interruptions were starting to string him out. It seemed he couldn't even eat in peace. Snake tossed the next bone a little closer hoping to catch sight of the thing in the darkness. It still remained beyond his vision but he could clearly hear the bone snapping to bits. Plissken shivered reminded of the sounds of crazies eating. The stench was missing. Even in the burbs the crazies stunk to high holy hell for miles it seemed. No there was no stench accompanying this thing. Unless it was a new crazy, someone who had yet to realize they had lost their mind.

Snake slipped another piece of meat into his mouth staring where last he heard whatever was out there. His nerves were starting to fray around the edges as his mind raced through the possibilities. Maybe it was rats? That thought was almost as bad as the crazies or worse. At least a gas crazy was easy to shoot.

Silence followed for a long time and Snake assumed whatever was out there had moved on. Greedily he returned to his chicken stripping off every possible scrap of tender meat. He should have taken two. Once more he rested his head back against the tree. His full stomach made it impossible to keep his eye open. It was a rare feeling to be full of such good food and it brought waves of exhaustion and comfort until he drifted to sleep.

Snake slept deeply against the tree until he became aware of something touching his hand. It was wet and sort of sticky. Fear pushed Plissken to bolt awake. The gun was out before his eye opened and he turned to face the thing touching him. His heart pounding so hard in his chest it caused pain to shoot through his bad eye. His eye revealed empty space next to where he had been sitting. Beyond the grass swayed in the early morning breeze but his keen eye picked up on a patch that was moving out of rhythm. Something had been here. He knew something was here, still here.

It was time to go. The stress of this place had all but driven Plissken mad. He had to get away from this unseen tormentor. Standing he stretched before spreading the coals. The chicken carcass still hung on the spit and Snake tossed it a side briefly reliving the taste of perfectly cooked meat. No sooner had the bones hit the dirt then the rustling started again. Snake continued putting out the fire but his eye turned to watch the grass. The grass was splitting and whatever was out there was moving in his direction. His left hand eased back unsnapping his holster. Slowly, he started removing the gun. It was close, about to enter the clearing Plissken was kneeling in. Snake turned his eye away and listened. A footstep hit the dirt and Snake turned drawing his revolver and aiming.

Shock hit first just before the sliminess returned to touching his gun hand. It licked and Snake lowered the gun.

"You crazy bastard! I almost shot you." Snake smiled a little trying to calm his heart that threatened to tear through his chest for the sped and pounding.

"Come here." Snake motioned and the Shepherd stood wary. Snake held up the bones and wiggled them. "Come on. I won't shoot you."

Slowly the dog inched forward and snatched the bones dashing back into the weeds. Snake shook his head laughing. All this stress over what? A dog? Snake was amused by how wound his nerves had become but then he started to think what if he had been lax and something worse was waiting in the weeds.

Snake collected his few things and slung the small pack over his shoulder as he made his way back to the road. It was still a long walk to where he was going and he wanted to get there before dark. Snake hit the pavement and glared down the road. It went on forever rising to hills in the distance. Maybe arriving would have to wait for tomorrow. Taking a deep breath he turned to start walking only to bump into the dog sitting at his feet.

Snake shook his head and stepped around it. The dog bounded up and followed next to him glancing up at Plissken expectantly. Snake stopped and looked down at it. The dog sat staring back with a look Snake could only imagine was the "happy dog" look.

"What?" Snake asked the dog. Then he shook his head again. Why on earth was he talking to a dog? Plissken turned back to the hills and started down the road. Again the dog bounded up beside him.

Snake glanced over at it and stopped again. "Are you following me?"

The dog jumped up, tail wagging frantically. Snake wanted to be furious at the animal but somehow he couldn't. Ruffling the Shepherd's hair he smiled. Something about this dog reminded him of home, the military and he felt a bit of kinship with it.

For just a brief second Plissken cracked a real smile, no sarcasm or cynicism just a genuine smile. Snake scratched vigorously on the scruff of the neck before he stopped and pushed it down. "Come on. Just keep up."

The dog bolted down the road sniffed around and ran back to Snake as he walked. He had always liked dogs and suddenly he was glad to have the companionship of one again. He knew he didn't have to worry about this friendship going sour or turning on him. Dogs were always loyal, always there to protect their pack mates and Snake felt a kinship with that sense of unquestioned loyalty. Snake reached down running his fingers through the soft fur. For the moment, alone and on the road Snake was content to just walk along with his dog and not give a damn about what was waiting for him on the other side of the hills.


	2. He's Not for Sale

It had taken an extra day to travel and Snake woke early to pawing. He pushed up and looked out toward the road from the thick cover he had slept in. People were traveling up the road past them with a wagon full of junk. It finally confirmed that he had been heading in the right direction. He gave the shepherd a scratch on the scruff.

"Good boy."

Snake waited for the ramshackle caravan to pass before he crawled from the bushes stretching. He hated sleeping on the ground, almost as much as he hated the government now that he thought about it. In fact, if it wasn't for the government he'd be waking up in a warm bed maybe beside a hot blonde. The thoughts instantly soured Snake's mood so badly he growled under his breath as he grabbed his bag.

The dog's ears had perked up at the sound of Snake's growl and he let out a low woof. Snake looked over and chuckled. "Come on you dumb mutt."

Snake walked to the crest of the hill and stared down the road toward the throng of people milling at the carts. He hated these cutthroats but he needed supplies he could only get here. It was an aggravation to be forced here but a necessity. Plissken strolled down the shoulder of the road watching every wagon that passed with contempt and suspicion. The closer he got to the mobscene the worse he felt. It was only when he reached the edge of the clearing that stood between the woods and the wagons that he came to a complete stop. His eye roved over the caravan until he saw what he wanted.

"You stay close boy." He ruffled the hair between the shepherd's ears. "These son-of-a-bitches would just as soon eat you."

Snake stepped out into the clearing with the confidence of a killer. He knew that is what they would expect and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of discovering how much they irritated him. The dog walked so tight to his leg that his cheek brushed passed Plissken's knee with every step. He glanced down realizing at once the behavior. This was a police dog or a military dog. The training was too obvious but more like a MP then anything else.

Snake turned his attention back to the crowd he was entering and still the dog kept his face pressed to his leg. Plissken let his eye track through the crowd before stopping in the makeshift boulevard to scan the carts, He noticed the dog shifting nervously beside him but concentrated on the people and the goods.

"Nice dog. Is it for sale?"

Snake's eye turned on the bedraggled passer-by that was touching his dog. Snake pinned him with a stare so vicious that he froze like a zebra in the sights of a lion.

"No." Plissken's words were cold and pointed sending the man scurrying from his presence. Snake began to make his way through the crowded street towards the weapons dealer. Ammunition first, everything else was a second on the list of things he needed.

Snake pushed his way through the crowd toward the cart's tiny counter disregarding the comments from those waiting in line. Plissken didn't wait in line. He didn't have the patience or the desire to stand among the filthy humanity here long enough to endure a line without shooting someone.

"Snake Plissken?" Were the first words out of the seller's mouth and Snake blatantly ignored them.

"I need as many boxes of .44 ammunition as you've got and I'll take the .45 too." Snake scowled showing his disappointment in the man still staring at him from the slightly elevated counter. "Now." Snake added for emphasis.

"As long as you're paying." He turned to his stash and returned with six boxes of .44 and 3 of .45. It wasn't what he was expecting but it would have to be enough.

The man before him continued to attempt small talk as Snake shoved the bullets into his pockets and began to count the greenbacks. "Never thought I'd see you traveling with a dog, Snake."

Snake's eye drifted down beside him but the space was empty. Glancing around there was no sign of his dog. Instantly his face set in rage and the money was forgotten. He threw the whole stack inside the cart and turned so quickly on his heels that it startled the patrons behind him in the throng.

"Sarge?" Plissken's voice boomed as he pushed his way out of the crowd to the more open area at the center of the road. He still saw nothing. His mind briefly remembered the face he'd seen when he walked in. If they had even dared…. A shrill bark broke his train of killer instinct. Instantly, Snake was moving toward the sound. People cleared the path for the man with the patch and cold, deadly stare. It was the reason he used it because it cleared his path through anything.

Plissken heard a whimper as he slid between two carts and appeared on the far side. Turning his blood boiled straight into explosion. His dog was there with wire around his neck. They were attempting to garrote him for food. Snake's eye narrowed to a slit and for the look on the face of the man holding the tether he knew he had the look of death riding down upon them.

The man twisting the wire noticed his companion's expression just in time to see Snake's hands flash with the efficiency of the trained killer he was. The wire dropped but it was too late. Snake was set on killing and nothing would stop him. Plissken wrenched his head and the satisfying snap sent the other man screaming toward the far end of the line of carts. Snake looked down at the body and kicked it so hard in the side something else snapped.

A whimper again drew his attention and his expression softened to his usual cool attitude. He kneeled and unwrapped the wire. It left a trail of blood on his fingers and he could see where it had started to cut skin. It wasn't bad; nothing Snake's first aid skills couldn't repair.

The dog placed a grateful lick over Plissken's patch and to his surprise he found himself smiling. He hated people touching his patch but then this wasn't a person. Snake shrugged.

"Come on Sarge." Snake was about to walk away when he laid eye on the other cages. Plissken didn't have much regard for life left, not when it came to humans but the animals. He glanced around and stepped inside the tent. Pulling his boot knife he went to work slicing the twine that secured the cages. Cats, dogs even birds emptied into the space beyond the tent flap. It was the least he could do and it was something like extracting money for his troubles.

He turned to leave the foul smelling tent when movement caught his eye. Sarge was staring at the bag rolling around on the dirt floor. Plissken gingerly touched it and he instantly found kinship and more burning hatred. The rattling confirmed his gut feelings. Rattlesnakes.

Messing with dogs was one thing but snakes. Everyone knew that was a bad call when Plissken was in the area. It seemed these people needed reminded. Snake grabbed the bag and squinted in the summer sun outside the darkened tent. Shouts rose from his left and he turned to allow his good eye to focus on the source. It was the man who had been holding the tether during the strangling.

A cold smirk spread into his expression. He could think of few things as satisfying as having your enemy come right to you. Snake unholstered his revolver, leveled it and shot before anyone could blink. The gun slid back into the holster and Plissken was already moving down the roadside embankment before the body settled on the ground.

Amidst the whispers of his name along the rows of wagons Snake disappeared once more into the South Dakota forest.


	3. Going Home

A week had passed since the market and Sarge was back to himself again. The dog trotted ahead of Plissken through the thick ferns and Snake ambled after in no particular hurry. He never knew why but at least once a year he found himself back in South Dakota. There was a draw here that called to him and he couldn't resist.

Plissken imagined it was a yearning for his old life where things would be happy like his dreams. Sometimes he even went as far as musing, maybe he would return and things would be normal and how they should be. That wouldn't happen either. At least the water was clean here. For some reason the Dakotas had never been gas bombed. Not enough people or industry probably.

Snake shrugged and bent down to get a drink from the creek. The water was so cold his hands chilled as soon as he dipped them in. It was invigorating and rather pleasant to drink water that wasn't piss warm. Standing again he surveyed the woods before changing directions. Snake headed south. He hadn't been back to Deadwood since he buried Taylor despite being in the state on and off. He wanted to see his parents and friends, talk to them. He realized they were dead and probably long decayed. This wasn't insanity. It was an attempt to keep him from going that way.

Snake crossed the creek and started walking. He didn't need a compass or map. He knew the Dakotas. They were in his blood like war and hate. He was born here and Plissken figured no matter how long you lived that was something you never lost connection with. Deadwood was a few days travel but he had supplies and there seemed to be deer in the area. It was enough to survive and that was good enough for Snake. 


	4. Future Fortunes

Snake watched the fortune teller at the fair for a long time. They had them on occasion out in the middle of nowhere. It was one relief for the people from the government oppression. The spectacle attracted Snake though it wasn't for the company of the people. It did him good to see that there was still some inkling of life in the general populace that still revolted against the government's harness, even if it was just kid's games.

It was rare to see so many people happy. That was so many people who weren't in power and some part of that caught Snake up in it. He smiled and walked down from the dark hillside into the lights. What could walking around the place hurt? Sarge was with him and trotted close beside him as he maneuvered through the crowd. There were a lot of people here, more than he'd seen in one place in a long time. As unnerving as it was the sight was also oddly comforting.

Snake looked around the various stalls. One he stopped at and threw some darts. It won him a can of beef stew. There weren't toys here. No, all these people were starving and most couldn't have more than they could carry but food was always welcome. Snake pocketed the stew smiling a bit more now that dinner wouldn't be such a problem. There'd be no scrounging for at least one evening. He didn't linger. He wasn't a greedy man by nature. As long as he had enough to survive a day, two maybe, he was fine. Other people had a need for food too.

The fair had other attractions though none raised Plissken's brow as much as the tattered Farris Wheel. It was rusty and he swore he saw it swaying as people exited and entered the little seats. He just shook his head as he headed off to check out the venders. Most of them sold junk of the kind that even Plissken would be hard pressed to find a use for. He did find a butcher. It took only a little wheeling and dealing to get his hands on the gizzards of a few chickens. They'd feed his dog for the night.

All in all the fair was turning out to be a good idea after all. Plissken was finding himself back around to the front and the fortune teller. He cocked his head and shrugged. There was an instinctual curiosity to the whole fortune telling mystique. Snake had no problem paying and bartered out a pair of leather gloves that were too small anyway for a session. Inside the tent was dark and claustrophobic. Snake took a deep breath in the oppressive dark before he sat down on the rickety stool. Sarge lay beside him as he watched the teller bring something out covered in a cloth.

Snake's instincts were to run from anything unknown coming from someone with those slightly hazed eyes. The teller was half gas crazy which was no surprise. Plissken mused that it would be quite a horror if there was a severed head under that cloth. It was a grotesque thought but if it happened Snake doubted he would show any surprise. It wasn't a head when the cloth came away but a perfectly polished sphere of clear something, glass or quartz, he was unsure in the dim light. It had veins of red through it and Plissken leaned more toward thinking it was natural quartz. It didn't much matter.

"What can I tell you of your future?"

The theatrics in the crazy's voice was peculiar but Snake paid no mind to it as he debated on what to ask. It had to be something vague enough that he could detect someone just saying bullshit from his record but narrow enough that he might get an answer. Finally Snake came up with a question that only he could know some of the information about.

"What's in store for tomorrow's destination?" Snake was satisfied with the question. No one knew where he was going tomorrow. Not even the person he was going to see. That would make this difficult but also maybe enlightening. He tried to stay open-minded on the subject as he watch the crazy teller go through motions so absurdly cliché that Plissken took to examining what he could see in the tent now that his eye adjusted to the dark.

When Snake turned back the teller was swaying like in a trance. He wondered if it was fake or real but there was no way to tell. Time passed and Plissken felt a bit antsy though curiosity kept it from getting the better of him. After what seemed like an hour; though Plissken would later discover was only 15 minutes, the crazy opened its eyes.

"San Diego is dangerous for you." The crazy intoned.

Plissken nearly bolted out of the tent. No one knew that was where he was going. He was rooted to the stool by something not quite fear or awe or anything. It was a weird feeling that crawled up his back, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck. Crazies made him feel that way normally as it was. This one made that feeling worse.

"Stay away from Balboa."

Snake's skittishness increased. He knew what Balboa referred to. Where he was headed was by the old Balboa golf course. There were too many cities around here to even guess where Plissken was going. Even if that had been luck, to name the place in San Diego was too much.

"Why?" Snake managed to work the words out because if there was that much he had to know the rest.

The crazy gazed in the ball leaning closer. "Dead dog…dead men…. Plissken!"

The crazy's eyes shot up wide. Snake sat frozen to his place. "The Snake here?"

He glanced around without hinting at an answer. He didn't want this teller to know anything more than they seemed to already. Suddenly the teller jumped away overturning the table. The huge ball was flung toward him. Reflexes caught it but it was hot, burning hot as if it had been in a fire. Snake dropped it instantly to the grass and bolted. Snake rarely ran like this from anything. It was a fleeing terror that only a gang of crazies sent him into. One had never done it.

He finally stopped sliding down against a tree where he could still make out the lights down the hill and through the trees. He tried to catch his breath and clear his thoughts.

"What the fuck?" Snake whispered to Sarge or himself. He had no explanation for what happened. There was no logical way to shove it all aside as coincidence. His mind was running faster than his labored breath. There was no way in hell he was going to San Diego. At least not tomorrow. 


End file.
